


The Fatimid Warrior Orders a Stone Effigy for His Sepulchre

by caldefrance



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage Sack, Caretaking, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, Dark, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, Fasting, Force-Feeding, Gavage, Insomnia, M/M, Major Illness, Necrophilic Fantasy, Punishment, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Starvation, Total Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caldefrance/pseuds/caldefrance
Summary: A hundred lifetimes ago, Nicky had consented to grant his lover power over his body in exchange for forgiveness and comfort. Nicky understood that Joe wished to help him. Joe understood that Nicky would need some guidance to help him meet his body's basic needs—like sleeping, eating, bathing, and fucking. Joe did, however, expect Nicky's compliance with his orders.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	1. Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this work is something that I originally wrote as a response to a prompt posted to theoldguardkinkmeme, which can be found here:  
> https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5552.html?thread=1833904#cmt1833904
> 
> "Joe keeps Nicky bound and gagged whenever they sleep alone. Joe still cuddles around him. He loves it. Nicky hates this, but any complaints earn him a spanking."
> 
> If you would like to read the fill, titled "Joe/Nicky, dub-con, Sleep Sack," you can find my original post here:  
> https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/694.html?thread=1860790#cmt1860790
> 
> Fair warning: this work interprets the prompt rather darkly, as it escalates from a bdsm scene rather quickly.

Joe wished to help Nicky meet his body's basic needs. Nicky would always cater to Joe's wishes. He had agreed to that much when he'd consented to grant his lover power over his body in exchange for forgiveness and comfort.

Now, Joe wished to sleep and dream with his lover in his arms. Joe wished for Nicky to submit to his embrace.

"Lie down," he ordered.

Nicky bit his lips, worried he might let slip how much he wished to refuse. His lover expected obedience when he was ordered to settle down to sleep.

Nicky knew he was a light sleeper. He knew that his experience campaigning as a crusader and as an undying mercenary had affected his sleeping patterns. He knew that he suffered from chronic insomnia. Though he might settle down for twenty minutes or for two hours before waking again, his racing mind would compel him to leave his bed and his lover's embrace.

Nicky understood that Joe wished to help him by ordering him to bed. Joe understood that Nicky would need some help to please him this way, so he had acquired a neoprene bondage sack for Nicky: a full-body brace that would confine and immobilize his restless limbs. When Joe required rest, he would bind Nicky in the sleep sack: wrapping the material around his naked body so he would not feel discomfort, fastening the long zippers with care so he would not pinch his sensitive flesh, and tightening each belt buckle so he would not fidget.

Once, Nicky had objected. He did not think he could bear to be immobilized. He couldn't bear the thought of lying captive for hours, waiting for his lover to release him. He couldn't relinquish his bodily autonomy to Joe's control.

"No," he'd refused.

"What?" Joe asked, surprised that his biddable lover demurred.

"I will not sleep," his meek lover had refused, shame-faced. "Let me be, Joe."

"You will not lie," Joe said, so he could be certain he'd heard correctly.

His lover shook his head without meeting his eyes. He stared at his fidgeting hands. He could not face his lover. He knew he was committing a breach of the power exchange he'd consented to a hundred lifetimes ago. He knew, too, the terms in which he'd be punished. He bit his lips, silencing himself.

Joe took a measured breath, checking himself, before pronouncing his sentence. "Then you will burn." 

He gestured for Nicky to lie over his knees. He ordered him in clipped tones to bare himself.

Nicky complied. 

Joe spanked Nicky's bare arse with an open palm, with an expert skill gained through repetition.

As he lay over Joe's knees, Nicky felt his cheeks warm. How many times had he enjoyed corporal punishment under his lover's hands? This time, however, he knew he could not respond to the pain of spanking blows. This was punishment: undignified and humiliating. This was a correction designed to make him feel chastised and mortified. He promised himself that his sinful body would not take shameful pleasure from this humbling correction. He willed his cock to remain soft and limp, obedient, as his lover warmed his arse cheeks with swift blows. He owed his _sovrano_ obedience in all things.

"I do this," Joe said, as he swatted and smacked his lover's arse repeatedly, "for us."

Nicky mumbled incoherently, marrying Ligurian and Arabic, expressing apologies and promises and devotions to the man who ruled him body and soul.

When Joe deemed the spanking had weakened Nicky's resolve, he relented, rubbing his lover's arse with his open palm.

Nicky thanked him when he had finished. _Grazie._ He spoke with sincerity, as he felt overwhelmed with gratitude. He was truly grateful that his lover would correct and forgive his weakness. "I'll be good," he cried, "I promise."

"I know you want to be good, Nicky," Joe said, reassuring the man in his charge. "I know that you will keep the promise you swore to me." He repeated it then, speaking in classical Arabic with a solemn tone of voice and a serious gaze, one that pierced through memories shrouded by time. "Subject yourself to my authority. Submit your body to my will."

Duly reminded of the oath of allegiance and obedience he had sworn to his lover, Nicky could only nod in acceptance, feeling chastened.

"Allow me to bind you," Joe ordered, as he instructed him to lie still and yet dared him to cross his will.

Nicky complied now, without question or protest.

Nicky lay down, on their shared bed, where Joe had set out the sleep sack. He stared at the ceiling, trying to still his fidgeting hands. He imagined his body turned to stone, like an effigy on a tomb, in the shape of a Knight Templar sculpted with rigid armour and with his hands clasped around a sword. He would wait until the dead rose again and called for his aid. He would not break his oaths. He would keep his promise. He would obey. He would wait patiently, without movement or interference, for his lover to bind and release him. He repeated these statements, hypnotically, so he might concentrate on lying still and ignoring stimuli that might excite his arousal as his lover prepared his body for rest.

Joe encased the naked body of his lover with great care in the material of the sleep sack. With sure movements, he tugged the tab of the zipper that ran from his lover's feet to his groin and the tab of the zipper that ran from his lover's neck to his navel. 

Nicky shivered as his limbs were encased in the man-made material. How many times had his trusted squire touched him this way, to help him don the weight of padded cloth and chainmail, so he might prepare to meet the enemy in battle?

Joe then laced and tied the laces that bound the stiff material over his lover's genitals, passing through metal eyelets that would constrict without pinching his softened member.

Nicky squeezed his eyes shut, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, as the tender flesh of his neglected manhood throbbed where it was tightly laced. How many times had his sworn brothers touched him this way, to help him discipline and channel his sinful urges, so he might prepare for the madness and turmoil of the _mischia_?

Joe fastened each of the belts that would immobilize his lover with sure movements: binding his ankles, his calves, his thighs, his waist, and his shoulders in turn.

Nicky released the breath he'd held while his lover tightened the confining material that restricted and smothered all his movements—even his breathing. How many times had his faith's ordained men touched his body this way, to help him restrict his body's carnal needs and pleasures, so he might prepare for death and judgment before his maker?

Joe gently pressed the gag to his lover's lips, so they would part, and accept the intrusion. He tightened the straps around his lover's head that would hold the gag muzzling his voice in place.

Nicky settled his jaw around the unyielding intrusion of the penis-shaped gag that proved a poor substitute for his lover's warm cock. How many times had his hated enemy touched him this way, to help him learn to submit and suckle, so he might earn this righteous man's forgiveness and affection?

Joe kissed his lover's wrinkled brow, bestowing upon him a touch that he felt would absolve him of his many sins, as he slipped and secured the fitted hood over his head.

Nicky kept his eyes shut behind the tightly-fitted hood that covered his features and masked his senses. Blind and dumb, he sought the muffled sound of his lover's praise and reassurance. How many times had his lover bound him this way, to help him settle and rest, so he might earn grace and favour from his fearsome _sovrano_?

Joe ran his hands over the immobilized body of his lover. He was reminded again how he loved the sight of this body, strictly bound and featureless. The black neoprene fabric of the bondage sack and hood covered the whole of Nicky's body, like a shroud. It forced Nicky to hold the form of a body prepared for its final rest. When they lay together now, it would be without interruption. Joe laid his body alongside his lover's captive form. He closed his eyes and imagined his passing. He imagined leaving his body lifeless on the bed, to lie forever alongside his shrouded lover. He felt at peace.

Nicky felt the weight of his immobilized body, exhausted by his restless thoughts and his wandering attention. Until Joe granted him release, Nicky could not touch or move or leave from where he lay bound and hooded beside his lover. He could not touch himself, though he desired to embrace his lover. He could not pleasure himself, though he longed to release his frustration through orgasm. He could not die, though he wished to relieve his suffering and end his ordeal.

Nicky had to trust that his lover would find pleasure in his obedience and his patience while he waits for his release.

Nicky trusted that Joe would ensure he would not break his oaths. He would ensure he kept his promise. He would ensure he waited patiently until he is granted release, just as silent and as still as an eleventh-century stone effigy laid to mark the resting place of a warrior's dead body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work's title was inspired by Robert Browning's poem, "The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church."


	2. Eating

"I'm ready to eat!" Nicky had called out to Joe, inviting his partner to join him for dinner.

Nicky watched, apprehensively, as Joe now stared at the two places he'd set at the kitchen table. At one place setting, Nicky had set a plate overflowing with food: home-made _manicotti_ with fresh cow's milk cheese and covered in an _osso bucco_ sauce accompanied by sparkling water. At the other, Nicky had set a plate with a plain piece of bread and a glass of tap water.

Nicky watched the expression on Joe's face carefully, searching for any trace of concern or disappointment there. Joe undoubtedly realized that Nicky did not yet intend to break his fast—even after having laboured for hours over a dish to feed his partner.

At least once a year, Nicky would decide to abstain from a numberless variety of food and drink—many of which he enjoyed—in the name of religious observance. Nicky found solace in denying his bodily needs, in denying his weakness, even after he had relinquished many of the beliefs of his Christian faith a hundred lifetimes ago.

Nicky fasted zealously, willfully abusing his body's perpetual state of health, as he trusted Joe to intervene in case his restricted diet turned into a recognized form of disordered eating. Given the terms of their power exchange, Joe could require that Nicky break his fast, if he decided his partner's abstinence might compromise his quality of life or their safety.

Nicky knew that he was taking a risk. Earlier that afternoon, Joe had received a call from Andy, notifying him they needed to _rendez-vous_ in Eastern Turkey. Joe had yet to relay all the details to Nicky, although he understood he would need to break his fast soon to ensure he had enough strength to achieve the mission's goals. 

Nicky also knew that he couldn't eat a full meal on his own after so many days spent fasting.

If Joe decided Nicky was risking their safety by refusing to eat before a mission, Joe could force Nicky to break his fast. If Joe wished for Nicky to eat, then Nicky was bound to comply.

"Allow me to feed you," Joe said, having made his decision.

Once, Nicky had outright refused him. Nicky had been delirious with illness when he suffered from cholera in 1850. The sudden bout of illness had quashed his appetite and likely would have killed him altogether. Nicky found he couldn't eat the food Joe provided for him without suffering violent bouts of sickness and flux. Nicky had hoped fasting would relieve at least some of his pain.

"Allow me to feed you," Joe had said, unwilling to watch Nicky waste away.

"No. Please, no," Nicky had begged him to relent. "Please don't make me!"

"You gave me your word, Nicoló," Joe reminded him. "You promised me obedience in all things, in sickness and in health. I am ordering you to let me feed you."

Nicky had pleaded with him, desperately, to avoid eating.

Nicky's resolve crumbled before Joe relented.

Joe fed Nicky with an endless and yet brutal patience. Each time Joe held a spoon of broth to Nicky's lips, he pinched his nose shut when he would not open his mouth and then held his mouth shut when he wouldn't swallow. Joe did not relent when his patient coughed and choked on the broth or when he vomited it up or when he lost control of his other bodily functions. Joe only relented when he'd drained the bowl of broth and left his patient's side to prepare another.

After the sickness passed, both Joe and Nicky agreed that this method of feeding had been a terribly messy business.

After that dreadful experience, when Joe force-fed Nicky, he used a very different technique.

When Nicky confessed to Joe that he couldn't stomach any food, now, they agreed he would need the help of a special device. Joe would use a gavage kit: a hollow gag and a thin rubber hose, about three centimetres in diameter and twenty-five centimetres long, with a funnel attached to one end. When Joe required that Nicky ingest food when he can't eat, he would first open up his mouth with the hollow gag and open up his alimentary tract by feeding the gavage device down his throat, then deliver a volume of pulverized food through this tube directly into his stomach until full and his stuffed belly expanded noticeably.

When Nicky was directed to sit in a chair at the table, he tamped down any instinctive desire to refuse and silently complied, waiting for Joe to prepare his kit. Nicky stared straight ahead, ignoring how he felt nauseous and suppressing the anxious pit he felt in his stomach, as Joe gathered the supplies he would need to force-feed him. Nicky waited, swallowing back any bile that rose to his throat, as Joe set out hard leather restraints, a neoprene posture collar, some nitrile gloves, a tube of medical-grade lubricant, a hollow gag, a gavage tube and funnel, a plastic pitcher, and an immersion blender.

Nicky watched, stone-faced, as Joe approached him with strict restraints to bind him in place. Nicky waited, with a learned patience, as Joe bound his wrists behind the chair's stiff backrest. Nicky obediently accepted the intrusion of the hollow gag when Joe buckled it around his head. Nicky even lifted his chin, as Joe wrapped the neoprene fabric of the posture collar around his neck. 

Nicky tensed against the stiffness of the collar's reinforced boning and hard plastic chinrest that would hold his head and throat in a fixed position as Joe stuffed him full of food. Nicky remembered the first time Joe had used this kit, in 1918, to end one of his hunger strikes. Nicky remembered how he'd cried and begged for Joe to never use it on him again. Nicky remembered how Joe had weathered his emotional outburst—his weakness—patiently, without ever giving him his word.

Nicky watched, wide-eyed, as Joe put on neoprene gloves and lubricated the gavage hose. Nicky took deep breaths, as he'd learned, when Joe began to feed it through the hollowed out gag, past his throat, and pushed into his oesophagus. 

Nicky choked and retched as the rubber tube slid down his throat. Nicky cried involuntary tears as Joe stuffed him with the gavage device until the funnel attached to the rubber tube reached the limits of the gag. Nicky remembered the first time Joe had forced him to eat, in 1275, when a period of food scarcity and self-denial had sapped him of the strength to ride his own horse. His decision to give away all his food to those in need had been firmly rejected by Yusuf, whose stubbornness outweighed the weakness of his own commitment. Nicky remembered how Yusuf had stuffed him with food until he cried, thinking he might burst, and could bear his own weight again.

Nicky watched, dumb-founded, as Joe took the plate he'd set out for him to eat—full of pasta and cheese and braised meat—and added it to the translucent pitcher before blending it into an emulsified slop. 

Nicky shuddered to think he would be forced to eat so much rich food after days of eating simpler fare. Nicky remembered the first time he had seen such rich food, in the decades after they'd met fighting in the crusades, when he'd refused to break his fast among mixed company. Deeply offended, Yusuf had insisted on feeding him by his own hand, until his misplaced scruples crumbled. Nicky remembered how he'd given in to his weakness and obediently eaten bites of _tajine_ and _baklawa_ out of his lover's hand.

"Can you breathe?" Joe asked Nicky, interrupting his thoughts, as he checked to make sure he'd not inadvertently inserted the tube down his trachea.

Nicky couldn't voice a denial or shake his head. Nicky could only blink, twice, to give a negative response.

"That's good, Nicky," Joe said, satisfied with his answer. "I won't stop once we start," he warned him, "so I can make this quick and without trouble for you."

Nicky watched, helpless, as Joe began his ordeal by lifting the pitcher of slop to his face and pouring it into the funnel over his mouth. Nicky began to panic, as Joe began to force food down his throat and he could no longer deny the needs of his body. Nicky was unnerved by the heat of the stew passing through the hose and filling his stomach. Nicky made desperate noises around the gavage device, as the sick feeling of feeding felt overwhelming to him.

Nicky could not hide his relief when Joe stopped, as he moaned pathetically when he removed the emptied pitcher. Nicky could not keep from whimpering as Joe pulled the hose out, with slow and careful movements. Nicky could not keep from choking when the gavage device was removed and he could swallow freely again. Nicky could not even keep from crying openly and babbling, apologizing profusely for his weakness and offering thanks, when Joe unbuckled the hollow gag and he could speak again.

" _Prego_ , Nicky," Joe reassured him. "I'm so proud of you for accepting my help so you could eat something."

Joe quickly released Nicky's arms from the hard restraints binding his wrists and dragged his cramping body into his embrace as he sat on the kitchen floor. Joe gave Nicky the comfort and reassurance he needed as his stomach gurgled and struggled to digest all the food he'd been forced to eat. 

"You're not weak for giving in, Nicky," Joe told him, speaking softly to the crown of his bowed head. "You'll find this will give you strength. I know just how unpleasant and uncomfortable you find it when I help you eat, but you'll thank me again tomorrow when you have the strength to fight."

Joe understood how Nicky felt mortified and disgusted by his own bodily functions. Joe understood how his hard his lover worked to deny the needs of his body he found shameful. Joe also understood how much he would wish to punish himself for a very different kind of shame: if he found he couldn't complete his next mission because of a self-inflicted weakness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I have put this work on hiatus. I have drafted the third chapter and outlined the fourth. I intend to publish both, eventually, but I want to do it well.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has left kind comments so far, because I find your appreciation for this piece heart-warming and encouraging.
> 
> Right now, however, my writing schedule is taken up with other kinds of projects with other kinds of themes and I don't yet know when I'll return to this.
> 
> I anticipate that I will eventually feel the same desire that drove me to write and complete this piece.
> 
> If you want to be sure you'll catch the updates when I do, I recommend that you hit the subscribe button!


End file.
